Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Laughing, I look up at the sky. It’s periwinkle now, the last edges of the sun’s tangerine light fading to blue. Stars blink awake.
“I don’t mind the naked catching up.”
Tuck rests his arm on the back of the bench we’re sitting on. “I don’t either. Can’t wait to do it again. But I wanna know what’s going on inside that head of yours. I’ve missed talking to you.”
The ache in my throat returns with a vengeance. I drink my ginger ale. “Would you have ever guessed you and I would get along so well?”
He scoffs, gently sliding his fingers into my hair. “Not in a million years. But here we are.”
“Here we are.” My pulse thumps inside my skin as he massages my scalp. “The age difference—”
“Does it bother you?”
I lift a shoulder. “I hate the way it looks. For me, at least. Sexism at work. You nabbed a younger girlfriend, but I trapped an older guy with money. That’s not what I think, by the way, but that’s what people are going to say.”
Tuck’s eyes are playful. “I am older, and I do have money. You also forgot to add that my younger girlfriend is obscenely hot.”
“Ha. Thank you.”
“If I could shrink our age difference, Maren, I would. I understand why you feel the way you do. I’m sorry. God help the idiots I catch talking shit. And they will, you’re not wrong about that. But I think we need to approach it like, well, so what? Let them get themselves all riled up while you and I have fun doing our own thing. And how can you ‘trap’ me if you have your own thing going on at the same time?”
I look down at the blanket spread across my lap. The striped grey and yellow wool is nubby, worn, and very warm. “That’s just it. I don’t have my own thing going on. In fact, I feel further away than ever from figuring out that part of my life.”
Tuck gives my hair a gentle tug, urging me to meet his eyes. “You put a lot of pressure on yourself to get things right on the first try. No one does. Not many people, anyway. Hell, I joined the Navy thinking I’d be a lifer. It was a great experience, but I knew pretty quickly I didn’t want to be in the military forever. Did I have any clue what I wanted to do next? Nope. But I kept going, kept talking to people and trying new things, until I did.”
“I admire your patience. I have less than a year of school left, but I’m so over it I want to quit. Which would be stupid, I know, for a lot of reasons. Not least of which is the fact that I went into a lot of debt to pay for it.”
He narrows his eyes. “How much student debt do you have?”
“A lot.”
“Give me a number.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Why? You’re getting a top-notch education. I didn’t go to college. Didn’t have the money or the mind for it. I respect that you do. You’ve clearly thrived.”
“I’m clearly failing.”
“You’ve struggled for one half of one semester. And I think that’s because you didn’t love teaching fifth grade, so you’re subconsciously throwing in the towel because there’s nothing else you could possibly do with a master’s in education than teach that class to those kids.”
My turn to narrow my eyes at him as I let out an exaggerated sigh. “What an asshole you are, being right and shit.”
“I am right. And I can be an asshole, as you well know.” He reaches under the blanket to grab my calf, giving it a squeeze. “Finish school, Tiny. It’ll suck, but you’ll be done before the baby comes. Just because you don’t know what you’ll do with your degree now doesn’t mean you won’t eventually find a way to use it. Maybe you go into education, maybe you won’t. But I think you’ll regret quitting before you figure that out.”
One benefit of dating an older guy: his wisdom. Tuck has a point. As Mom is so fond of saying, you don’t know what you don’t know. Maybe welcoming Tuck into my life—which would mean welcoming the literal village he comes with—is the key to figuring out my career.
My future.
“It really will suck.” I pick at the blanket. “One and a half semesters left. Ugh, I want to vomit just thinking about it.”
“You were a varsity athlete who somehow also managed to ace all her classes at Chapel fucking Hill. You did that, so you can do this.” His hand creeps higher on my leg. “Especially when you have me to help.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “That isn’t going to help. That’s a distraction.”
“Sex clears the mind. Stirs up the imagination. Maybe that’ll help us figure out how you can use your degree in a way that lights you up.”